


Rumors of Wolves

by snarkydame



Category: Element of Fire - Martha Wells
Genre: Gen, Presumed Dead, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:49:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2808113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarkydame/pseuds/snarkydame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Kade watches as the Court reacts to Captain Boniface's misadventure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rumors of Wolves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pentapus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pentapus/gifts).



> for pentapus. I hope you like it.

They were potting orange trees in the Grand Gallery.

Kade watched them from the stairs, cross-legged, barefoot. It was very early in the morning, and the servants had the run of the Gallery. The air was rich with the scent of soil, of old stone splashed with water. The lofty space rang with the gardeners' cheerful curses as they wrestled with the roots.

She could do this for another hour, she decided, before the Court began to stir, before someone would remember her and be scandalized. But no sooner had she leaned back against the balustrade than the chatter stuttered. 

There was a stir beyond the double doors – some of the servants were craning their necks to see, orange trees rustling as they tilted, half set in their silver pots. Kade frowned. 

She got to her feet, ignoring the startled jump from the gardener closest to her. Two steps up and across to the opposite side, and she had a much better view of the doors, at an angle that would keep her mostly out of sight.

There were two of the Queen's guard there, young and handsome as they all were, but their faces were drawn and pale. There was mud and darker stains on their dark clothes, and their voices were strained.

“She will not thank us for letting her sleep,” the taller one was saying, hand on the other's shoulder. “She must be told.”

“But the King . . .”

“I'll distract the King's men! Go round the back way, and for all our sakes, get to Ravenna before this news does so on its own.”

The guard, if anything, paled further, and Kade sympathized. She could admit to herself that she was wary of the Queen at her most jovial. She'd hate to be the one to bring her what seemed to be bad news.

The Queen's men split, boots loud in the empty hall. Below her, the gardeners resumed their work, but their conversation now was buzzing with nervous speculation.

The peaceful bustle of the morning was ruined early. Kade blew a strand of hair from her face, and huffed.

* * * *

The Court had a darker energy today. Petitioners and courtiers alike held themselves with brittle caution. Kade watched them from her hidey hole beneath the curve of the great staircase – just after lunch, Roland came to join her, eyes wider than usual. 

“He seems happy,” he said. Meaning their father, the king. Meaning the news from this morning must be very bad indeed.

Kade handed him a sweet roll, and squinted through the oiled silk hangings that framed her view. The Queen was . . . there. 

A flair of red and gold, in silks and rubies, she sat at the far side of the dais from her husband, holding court around him even more obviously than she usually did. Her face was serene, and her hands never faltered over the embroidery in her lap. 

But, Kade saw, the patterns she was stitching seemed thornier than they had been. Like tiny daggers. And the guards wearing her red ribbons were watching every exit. Kade thought them like young wolves, dangerous in their nervousness.

Fulstan, on the other hand, seemed far more relaxed than was his want. Kade felt her mouth twist when she saw the smile crossing his face. His eyes flicked often to Ravenna – but not in the resentful way she was used to. There was . . . an ugly sort of glee there, Kade decided. 

“Roland,” she said, and her brother paused, sticky fingers half licked clean. But before she could ask what he'd heard from his pages (young enough still, all of them, that the servants didn't always watch their tongues while they were about), the King shifted on his throne.

“My Queen,” he said, in a voice pitched to carry, and Kade's hands twitched towards fists at the smug theatrics.

Ravenna turned towards him, her face blandly inquisitive. Kade wondered that Fulstan didn't flinch from the steel in her eyes. 

“I haven't seen your Captain Boniface this morning. Is he ill?”

A hush had fallen over the court. It was still spreading behind a rustle of silks and satins, as the courtiers angled for a better view.

“Why no, my King,” Ravenna said, managing to make the respectful comment sound as though she were appeasing a fretful child. “He tends to a matter of some importance, but shall soon return.”

“Quite soon, I hope,” the King said, and meant precisely the opposite. His smile dripped with condescension. “I know how much you dote upon his company.”

“Of course,” the Queen replied, her voice honey sweet. “One should always endeavor to surround themselves with clever people.” She turned away then, and her guards pointedly closed ranks, clearly dividing the dais. 

He scowled, but it was fleeting, and he was smiling back into his wine in a moment. Kade found this deeply disturbing.

* * * *

For five days, the Court saw no sign of the Captain. Kade told herself it was the endless gossipy speculation that had her on edge. Or the way the Queen's temper grew shorter and shorter, while the King laughed loudly with his cronies whenever she was near, and would stop suddenly with a look of feigned sympathy when he “noticed” her. Kade was honestly surprised Ravenna hadn't retaliated yet. But there was far more blood in the rumors than spilt in the Court -- the stories had Captain Boniface dead in half a dozen different ways, told with varying levels of fascination or dread, depending on the teller. Most of the Court, Kade thought, felt both.

But some of the stories spreading around were truly horrific. Roland had come to her, shivering, on the third day – one of his pages had heard from the cook that the Captain had fallen through the roof of a burning tower, and another had heard he'd been torn apart by wolves. She scoffed at such wild tales, and kept close to herself the sundusted memory of strong arms and a deep voice, lifting her up. The Captain, she told Roland, was a wolf himself, and would not be worried by any number of lesser beasts.

The extravagant mourning gowns that some of the more dramatic young ladies had taken to wearing were irritating in a different way – as though the Captain had ever turned his dark eyes on any of them, while Ravenna blazed so brightly. (Kade quite firmly refused to include herself in their category, though she had, in a moment of weakness, tied a black ribbon over her arm. Beneath her sleeve.)

* * * *

The sixth day, Kade sat beneath a tree in the kitchen garden and watched the pattern of moonlight and cloud cross the back of a particularly shiny beetle, having tired of Fulstan's gloating in the Gallery. She could feel the magic in the castle walls -- too heavy and strange yet for her to interact with, despite Dubell's coaching. But she dreamed sometimes, dug her fingers in the earth, pretending to hold that magic in her hands.

There was a rustle in the shrubbery, and she looked up, ready to deny any such thoughts to her teacher.

But it was instead a dark clad figure dropping over the garden wall. And slipping in the mud below. The figure sat, slumped and quiet, and then let loose an impressive string of whispered curses, holding a hand to his side.

There were red ribbons woven through his sleeves, dark as blood in the moonlight. 

Kade held very still, watching him. Briefly, she entertained the notion of helping him to his feet, and parading him into the Gallery. To see the smile fade and drop from Fulstan's face. To, perhaps, see something warm bloom on Ravenna's. She squashed that thought almost immediately, feeling very small, and young.

Thomas Boniface got himself up. He swayed a bit. Took a deep, audible breath. Kade could see his face quite clearly – there was an anger there, she thought aimed at himself, one already fading into the more familiar wolfish amusement.

His head came up, as the little kitchen door opened into the garden, and one of Queen's Guard (the tall one, Kade couldn't remember his name) came out. Thomas relaxed, and Kade thought the guard forced himself to attention to avoid pulling him into a hug, there was such joy on the young man's face.

“The message came through then,” Thomas said, his voice low and tired.

“Yes, sir. She's waiting for you, and the doctor's there. The king won't know you're back until Court tomorrow.”

“When I come in with the Guard like nothing's happened? Ravenna's idea, I'm sure.” They looked pleased, both of them.

“Of course.” 

Then Thomas sighed. "I want a bath, first. I stink of tar."

"She will not care." 

The two men walked out of the garden then, and Kade leaned back against the trunk of her tree. 

She would tell Roland, she thought, before she went to bed. He'd had nightmares of wolves and burning timbers, and of Fulstan smiling. He would want to be prepared for this.

She'd known they were just rumors, of course. She giggled, picturing the scene of tomorrow's Court. Those black clad mourners. And oh, the look on Fulstan's face. The giggles turned to hiccups, and she covered her mouth with dirty hands. 

She hadn't expected the relief she'd feel, seeing Thomas Boniface alive.


End file.
